


Loss

by magicconchshel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, Gore, Graphic Description, M/M, Miscarriage, You Have Been Warned, definitely one of my darker fics, loosely based off of human anatomy, this work features a miscarraige so be cautious, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25327843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicconchshel/pseuds/magicconchshel
Summary: (WARNING: This work features a rather graphic miscarriage. It is one of my darker fics, so please tread carefully!)
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Loss

He and Jazz were about to recharge for the night when the pains started. They were lying next to each other, watching an old holovid when Jazz flinched. He waved it off, saying it was bad fuel. But when it became clear the pains were not slowing, Prowl went to retrieve an oral pain reliever in hopes that it would help Jazz to recharge for the night. When he returned, Jazz was hunched over on his knees and there was a steady stream of energon leaking from between his legs. 

He called Ratchet and moved Jazz onto his side. He always handled pain silently. It was a part of his Special Operations training. If he ever got captured, Jazz had trained himself to bear extreme amounts of pain to avoid leaking any valuable information. For this, he balled up a pillow and held it to his chassis. 

Prowl knelt next to him and held his servo while they waited for Ratchet. Jazz’s pain seemed to be centered in his torso judging by the way he gripped himself. Prowl had several ideas of what could be causing this, none of which he wanted to confront. 

The most likely out of all his ideas would be a rust infection. Jazz had recently returned from a mission and could have contracted the infection from one of the dark gutters he chose to hide in. 

When the front door pinged, Prowl released Jazz’s servo to let Ratchet in. When he got there, he found that Ratchet had brought First Aid with him as well. The young medic trailed behind his mentor and blinked wearily from having just woken up. 

The two medics moved silently yet quickly through the quarters and into the berthroom where Jazz lied. The puddle of energon was getting bigger. 

Ratchet set his toolbox down on the corner of the berth and opened it. He pulled out a scanner and clipped it onto his forearm. It was an upgraded model of the one Ratchet had installed in his arm. He used this one whenever he needed a more thorough readout of a patient's condition. 

He said nothing about the results. Prowl helped First Aid roll Jazz onto his back and propped him up on some pillows. Jazz kept one arm wrapped around his middle. 

“Is he ok?” Prowl asked. 

“He will be.” Ratchet said. Prowl watched him dig around in his toolbox until he pulled out a vial and a syringe. “I’m going to give you some muscle relaxers, Jazz. They’ll help with the cramping.” 

Prowl sat beside Jazz on the berth and let him lean against him. Jazz was stiff and kept his optics closed. Prowl wondered if he should put Jazz’s visor back on him. It might make him feel safer. 

Before he could do so, Ratchet pressed the needle into some wiring in Jazz’s hip. Jazz tensed. 

“That should start to work in a few kliks. In the meantime, First Aid will hook up a drip and I’ll get to work on this. Then we can discuss your options.” Ratchet said. 

Ratchet began cleaning the plating of dried energon. It had leaked onto Jazz’s thighs and puddled onto the berth. It seemed to have stopped, or at least slowed down. He then took a small handheld probe and dragged it around his plating.

First Aid took Jazz’s arm that he had used to hold his torso. Jazz did not fight him. It seemed like what Ratchet had given him was working. The young medic placed another needle into Jazz’s forearm. Jazz onlined his optics after a few kliks. They were still dull and his movements were sluggish and forced. He looked around and craned his neck to look in between his legs where Ratchet was working before settling back into the pillows. 

When Jazz’s plating was clean, Ratchet spoke again. “Alright, you’ll be happy to know that this is no virus or rust infection. I believe that what we just witnessed was a miscarriage. I’m detecting an elevated spark signature as well as excess fluid stored in your gestation chamber. The pain you experienced were contractions. It seems as though your chamber was unable to support a sparkling at this time and began to expel the energon it built up.

“You have a few different options as far as treatment goes. Regardless of what you choose, I will be placing you both on medical leave. I know that you both prefer to keep to yourselves so I suggest we tell others that Jazz is recovering from a rust infection. He just got back from a mission and given the symptoms, I think it checks out.”

‘Keep to yourselves’ was a nice way to put it. Only a few mecha knew of their relationship. Ratchet knew. He had known for a while, but he was not told intentionally. 

“You have a couple different options as far as treatment goes. You could let this run its course naturally. It’ll take a few cycles and you’ll be cramping throughout it, but I can prescribe some pain killers if you need it. But, if you want a faster solution, I can manually remove the fluid.”

Prowl looked to Jazz for a reaction or a sign on what to do, but he remained unresponsive. He was looking at Ratchet with dim optics and held his servo loosely, but did not say anything. 

“Regardless of what you choose, it’s best to make the decision as quickly as possible. I can schedule you in as early as tomorrow morning if you choose to do it manually. If you don’t, some see me and I can prescribe you some thinners to help move things along.”

“I want to do it manually.” Jazz said. 

“Certainly.” Ratchet nodded. “First Aid, will you schedule them in?”

First Aid nodded and began to disconnect Jazz from the drip. 

Jazz spoke up with a weak voice. “Why did I miscarry?”

“It’s hard to say.” Ratchet said. “It could have been due to the mission you just went on. Your frame has been under a lot of stress these past few days and that could have caused it. There’s also a chance that you have a deformity or deficiency in your spark or gestation chamber. I can run a diagnostic tomorrow if you want a more accurate answer. But it’s also important to remember that there may be _nothing_ wrong with your frame. The newspark may have been too weak to survive the entire gestation.” Ratchet packed away the last of his tools. “Were you aware that you were carrying?” 

Jazz glanced up at Prowl before looking downwards again. “No.”

Ratchet sighed and clasped his servos together. “With that out of the way, I’ll leave you two be. Try to get some rest. I’ll notify Optimus that neither of you will be in tomorrow.”

Prowl stood up to bid them goodbye. Ratchet turned to him as they were exiting. 

He handed Prowl a vial. “If he has any more pain tonight, have him take two of these.” 

Prowl took the vial. “Thank you, Ratchet,” he whispered. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot darker than the stuff I usually write. I've had this idea for a while now and I just sorta wanted to write it. I also wrote it really late at night, so I hope it reads well...


End file.
